December 2017 Archives

The power of reason, the top of the heapWe're the ones who can kill the things weDon't eat...

And now the day is comeSoon he will be releasedGlory hallelujah!We're building the perfect beastDon Henley [1984]

With apologies to Mr. Henley, who likely didn't anticipate his lyrics would apply to raccoons, this seems to be exactly what I'm doing lately with my trapping efforts. My wife thinks my motto should now be "Making Smarter Raccoons." I wouldn't disagree.

We're in a sort of arms race, the neighborhood raccoons and I. Every time I concoct a strategy to trap them, they create a countermeasure that defeats it. It's simultaneously humbling and -- I confess -- a bit amusing. If this was a TV game show -- say, Are You Smarter Than a Varmint -- I'd be exiting before the first commercial break.

I relearned this lesson earlier this week when I discovered that the sardine-baited trap I'd put out was (1) sprung, (b) empty, and (&*$$%) missing its sardines. It had obviously been rudely treated:

As you can see, the bungee cord that I used to keep the trap in place didn't accomplish its only assigned task. The entire trap had been shifted by something, and in the process the trapdoor was sprung. The can of sardines that had been placed beneath the trap and on top of the black mat was, of course, gone. (Alert Gazette readers will recall that I had started placing the bait under the trap instead of inside of it, because too many prospective prisoners had figured out how to abscond with it without tripping the trap...more "one-step-ahead hacking.")

I assumed the culprit was of a raccoonish persuasion, and the game camera footage proved my assumption. Shortly after baiting the trap, a raccoon appeared and got to work hacking my system.

Raccoons wear masks for good reason; they're thieves, and quite good at their thievery.

I have to admit some grudging admiration for their cleverness and determination. The following video shows the raccoon trying one approach, and dropping it for another when the first one proved unfruitful. (Note that most of the footage is sped up by 200%...it's only about two minutes long, for those with short attention spans, like me.)

I refused to admit defeat, especially with the reputation of the entire human race riding on my efforts. Darn it, I AM smarter than a large rodent with a walnut-sized brain and goofy tail.

Since the raccoons had obviously clued into the fact that they could dig under the trap to get the sardines, my own walnut-sized brain came up with the brilliant idea of sinking a fence into the ground around the cage. I did that, and reset the trap. The following morning, the results were the same: no raccoon; no sardines; no human superiority.

Back to the drawing board. This is what I came up with:

Some people modify cars, some modify guns. Me? I'm into trap mods.

I was particularly proud of what I term the "trip plate guard." The raccoons have been successfully reaching into the trap from the outside and hitting the plate that causes the door to slam shut, thus preventing them from, you know, actually coming into the trap. Now, feel free to debate whether they are doing this on purpose or accidentally, but keep in mind that they're evil little thieves with larceny in their hearts. [Ed. -- Anthropomorphize much?]

My countermeasure is simple: I bent some screen mesh into a sort of shield and wired it in place so that a raccoon's reach couldn't get to the trip plate. Note that the shield couldn't just be a patch wired tight against the cage, as that would interfere with the trap's mechanism. Note to Havahart®: I'm happy to license this design improvement for a modest fee, say, sardines for life...?

I also abandoned the idea of placing the bait under the trap as the raccoons have definitely learned to dig underneath it to get to them. I'll take my chances with them trying to grab the sardines inside the cage without tripping the trap.

Finally, I slid a 4' length of rebar through the bars near the entrance to the trap as a way of further stabilizing it. On at least one occasion, the trap had been sprung by a particularly aggressive jostling, and I hoped this would eliminate that possibility. (I could put a second bungee cord at the front of the trap, but the rebar was a quick-and-dirty fix.)

So, did my awesome trap mods pay off, or did I simply extend the hours of the Fire Ant Raccoon Evening Buffet? Here's the video answer, showing the previous night's failure followed by last night's...well, you'll have to watch it to find out.

For now, advantage: humans. We'll see how long that lasts.

By the way, I did realize last night that the description of the trap as a "humane raccoon trap" is indeed appropriate for one reason I hadn't thought about. The design ensures that the trapped animal is protected from rain and snow by providing a solid roof and wall at one end of the trap. The raccoon I released this morning was extremely annoyed, but at least it wasn't soaked by the overnight drizzle.

Mary, did you know
That your baby boy
Would some day walk on water?
Mary, did you know that your baby boy
Would save our sons and daughters?
Did you know that your baby boy
Has come to make you new?
This child that you've delivered,
Will soon deliver you.

Mary, did you know
That your baby boy
Would give sight to a blind man?
Mary, did you know that your baby boy
Would calm a storm with his hand?
Did you know that your baby boy
Has walked where angels trod?
When you kiss your little baby,
You've kissed the face of God.

Oh Mary, did you know...?

The blind will see,
The deaf will hear,
And the dead will live again.
The lame will leap,
The dumb will speak
The praises of the Lamb...

Mary, did you know
That your baby boy
Is Lord of all creation?
Mary, did you know that your baby boy
Would one day rule the nations?
Did you know that your baby boy
Is Heaven's perfect Lamb?
This sleeping child you're holding
Is the great
I AM!

In 1969, a wealthy visionary named J. David Bamberger -- co-founder of Church's Chicken -- bought 3,000 acres of land in the Texas Hill Country a few miles south of Johnson City. Over the next few years, he increased the size of the ranch to its present 5,500 acres. In 2002, the Bamberger Ranch Preserve was created as a private operating foundation, and serves to maintain the ranch as a research and educational resource to illustrate the importance of preserving the original natural habitat of the Hill Country.

Using proven grassland management practices, the ranch has reintroduced native plant species, while removing non-native invasive species. This process significantly reduced rainfall runoff, which in turn allowed the numerous long-dormant springs in the area to recharge and once again begin to flow. The result is a spectacularly biodiverse environment.

The ranch is open to the public for periodic self-guided group hikes, as well as for various educational and research programs. My wife and I were fortunate to be invited by our good friends to accompany them on one such hike last November.

Five well-maintained trails totaling about four miles wind through the ranch, most of them named after famous conservationists and environmentalists such as Jane Goodall, Rachel Carson, and Ferdinand Lindheimer (aka the Father of Texas Botany). The trails involve some climbing, but nothing very steep, and some occasional loose rocks to traverse, but overall the hiking is easy.

The day was cool, clear, and slightly breezy when we set out. There were about thirty hikers, including one couple with two young children. We were shuttled through the ranch for a quick introduction, and the resident biologist pointed out various sites of special interest, including the chiroptorium...a manmade bat cave housing a migratory population of more than a million Mexican free-tailed bats -- the state flying mammal of Texas (I doubt there was a lot of competition for the title).

The chiroptorium was built in 1998, but researchers were puzzled by the relative lack of bats residing there. They finally determined that the problem was the three large plate glass windows installed in one wall to allow observation of the residents. The bats' sonar apparently had trouble distinguishing the glass from the outdoors and they kept colliding with the windows. Once the windows were covered, the bat population grew quickly. (Visit this page for more about the chiroptorium.)

We decided to hike almost the entirety of the trail system, since we weren't sure when we might be able to return. The fall foliage was striking in places, and we met up with the biologist on the trail and peppered him with a mess of questions about what we had seen along the way. I learned that I should never phrase a question to an expert thusly: "Now, isn't this tree a _____?" After three consecutive incorrect observations, I finally started just pointing and asking "What is that?"

We particularly enjoyed the sections of the trail that paralleled Miller Creek. The spring-fed creek flows into the small Madrone Lake, and eventually meets up with the Pedernales River. The creek wasn't flowing particularly swiftly due to the ongoing drought, but the water was clear and the occasional small waterfalls made a pleasant soundtrack for the scenery.

We were a bit disappointed that we didn't see much animal life during the four hour hike. It was too cool for snakes, and perhaps we were too noisy or unobservant to see the any of the 28 species of mammals that have been sighted on the ranch. We did see a wild turkey. Well, to be precise, we saw the remains of a wild turkey at the edge of a pond. We notified the biologist (in keeping with my campaign of disinformation, I told him it was a hawk), and he later informed us that a predator of some kind had gutted it and left the carcass where we spotted it.

I highly recommend a visit to Selah if you're in the vicinity during a scheduled hike. It's a testament to the ability of man to be a positive influence on the environment, and I'm thankful someone had the vision and the resources to provide such a gift to the rest of us.

I assembled a short video of footage and photos from our hike. I've also embedded a more professional video (also found on the Bamberger website, linked at the beginning of this post) that explains in more detail how the project affected the groundwater in the area. It's a fascinating account.

I woke up around 4:00 a.m. a few days ago (hold your snark; you'll be old someday, too), and detected the unmistakable odor of skunk. I found this a bit unsettling, but not enough to get out of bed to investigate. I rolled over and went back to sleep.

A few hours later, I opened the garage door to check the trap, although I was pretty sure I knew what Id find. Sure enough, yet another skunk had checked into Citter Inn. As with the precedingtwo, I decided to record the release, and that's documented in the video below.

While only you can decide whether it's worth spending 4 minutes and 6 seconds (plus load time) of your life watching this video (the TL:DW version is that I didn't get sprayed), I hope you will for a few reasons.

First, this is a really pretty skunk. I'm not sure who represents the standard for human beauty nowadays -- for women, perhaps it's one of these; for guys...well, you're on your own there -- but let's say this critter is the Scarlett Johansson of the skunk world.

Second, toward the end of the video you'll see some interaction between different species as recorded by my game camera, as well as the evidence of one whose affinity for and effort to acquire sardines was unparalleled.

But, really, the most important reason is that I'd like to have your feedback about something. Rather than use captions to describe what's going on in the video, I took a shot at doing a voiceover narration. I'd be really interested to know whether you have a preference about captions vs. narration (or would BOTH be preferable?).

I'd also welcome feedback about the quality of the audio, although that's less important. I recognize that my recording environment is less than ideal, particularly since we've cleared the shelves and walls of all content in preparation for remodeling. The sound is pretty echo-y as a result. Also, the webcam microphone is not exactly professional quality. I did try some pretty high-end Bose headphones as an external mic, but the results were actually less pleasing than the webcam, which I thought was strange.

Anyway, here's how much I'd like your feedback: I've actually reinstated the comments section on the Gazette. It's been years since I've allowed comments on any posts because of the overwhelming volume of spam I had to deal with (you can ask any blogger and they'll tell you the same thing...it's ridiculous). But I'm willing to put up with it in order to see some legitimate feedback. So, feel free to let me know what you think...and thanks in advance!

Without further ado...allow me to present Scarle...uh...another skunk.

Show of hands: who remembers Rosie from The Jetsons? [Ed - Nobody. If you're old enough to remember the TV show, you're too old to remember anything about it.]

Rosie was the family's robotic housekeeper. Almost six decades later, we're still waiting for a Rosie to come along and rescue us from the burden of household chores (and don't get me started on the flying cars we were promised). So far, the Roomba and the Echo have fallen short of our expectations in that area. But I'm here to report that there's hope on the horizon. All we have to do is to get creative with the devices we already have.

Case in point. I have a drone, a little DJI Spark, and it's a lot of fun to fly around the neighborhood, chasing deer and squirrels, exploring the creek while avoiding water moccasins, and spying on the neighbors (well, if we had any neighbors - which we don't - I would totally be spying on them). But it occurred to me this weekend that it was time for this toy to grow up and start adulting like the rest of us, present company excluded.

One of the downsides to being surrounded by a multitude of trees is the accompanying leaf blowing required to keep the sidewalks, porches, and driveways clean. I have a gasoline powered blower, but it's heavy and noisy and not all that joyful. I wondered, is there an easier way? Could leaf blowing become fun? I'll let you be the judge:

As it turns out, the drone-as-groundskeeper has a few teensy flaws. First, it would take approximately 17 hours to fully clean our outside surfaces. This is a problem because the Spark's battery is good for only about 15 minutes of flying time, and takes ~30 minutes to recharge.

Second, weather conditions limit the practicality. You may have been able to perceive that the drone was not hovering steadily in the video. The wind was a bit gusty and definitely impacted the stability of the device.

Third, the drone's operating system DID NOT APPRECIATE the close proximity to all kinds of obstacles. Even though I turned off the automatic obstacle avoidance feature, it continued to scream incessantly that I was TOO CLOSE TO EVERYTHING, AT ALL TIMES!!! Once, it even took matters into its own...uh...rotors, and landed itself when I flew it too close to the sidewalk. Perhaps it's intelligent enough to avoid domestic chores better suited for human efforts.

Alert Gazette readers - and, really, aren't you all? - will recall that I successfully, if foolishly, released a trapped skunk a couple of days ago without incident other than an elevated heart rate. I decided to give the trap a night off, but re-baited and re-armed it last night. I figured that a trapped skunk would have learned its lesson and would be focused on less confining dining opportunities.

As with so many things in life lately, I was wrong. It's Biblical: as a dog returns to its vomit, so a skunk does to its sardines (Proverbs 26:11, ORGV [Old Retired Guy Version]).

I was less apprehensive about the release process this time, but I might not have been had I been able to see inside the trap while I prepared to open the door. As the video below shows, the skunk's tail lifted ominously at one point, the equivalent of cocking the hammer on a revolver.

I was a bit fascinated by the absence of any visible reaction by the skunk to the trap door springing shut. It's a fairly violent action, jarring the whole contraption and making a rather loud noise, but the animal was so focused on getting to the sardines I had placed beneath the bars of the cage that it didn't notice. That's probably why gluttony is one of the Seven Deadly Sins.

By the way, much of the following video is sped up 400% for those of you with short attention spans. I move that fast in real life only on special occasions...like when a skunk is in the vicinity.

I think it's time to give the trapping a rest while I contemplate a different, non-skunk-friendly bait that will still be attractive to raccoons. I know raccoons like cat food, but so do cats, and I'm not interested in trapping them, either.